The sun hung low, painting the village rooftops with golden light as Lucian climbed the old tree by the river. This tree was his sanctuary—the closest thing he had to a kingdom, a fortress, a place to be free.
Today, the other children were nowhere to be found. They refused to play with him again. He knew why—the glowing wings on his back, the missing sigil on his face, the whispers that followed him like shadows.
Still, this tree was his escape from their harsh judgment. All the other kids had already awakened their abilities, and the prodigy school's entrance exam was only a year away.
Lucian pushed himself to climb higher, hoping for a better view of the river and forest beyond. But as he stood on a brittle branch, it snapped beneath him.
He closed his eyes.
Is this how it ends?
If only I had something to help me fly or stay in the air—like wind magic or fire to propel me back up.
This worthless sigil on my back—wings for what? All I've gotten is laughter.
Then, a sudden warmth bloomed across his back. The wind gathered around him like a protective embrace.
When Lucian opened his eyes, he wasn't falling. No—he was rising.
When he reached the safety of the cliff, he dropped onto the soft grass and ran home, heart pounding.
His mother was outside, laying out laundry. She looked nothing like him—her hair was brown, his father's black. But Lucian's hair was silver, and his eyes glowed gold, different from his mother's green and father's brown.
Lucian burst through the door, breathless and trembling. "Mom! Dad! I… I did something!" His voice wavered between excitement and disbelief.
His mother looked up from the table, her eyes wide but gentle. His father stood near the window, folding a piece of cloth, his expression calm but curious.
"I… I fell from the tree," Lucian began, swallowing hard. "But then the wind—" He raised his hands nervously. "It caught me. It lifted me back up."
His father furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. "The wind?" he asked slowly, clearly puzzled. "You mean… like Zephira's power?"
Lucian nodded quickly, hopeful. "I don't know how, but the wind held me. It was like I was floating."
His father looked down at Lucian's glowing wings, then back to his lifted feet trembling just above the ground. The soft breeze swirling gently around him confirmed the boy's words.
For a moment, confusion clouded his father's eyes. Then a slow smile spread across his face. "Orion… you have the Zephira Sigil. Just like me."
Lucian's eyes widened. "Really? But… I don't have a face marking."
His father's hand came to rest gently on Lucian's shoulder, steady and warm. "Not all gifts show the same way. Yours is special, unique. Those wings on your back—thats your sigil."
Tears welled in Lucian's eyes. For the first time, he felt something he had never known before: hope. Maybe his wings weren't a curse.
Maybe they were what made him unique.
His mother smiled through her own tears, her hands reaching out to embrace him.
His father's expression grew serious as he stepped back. "Lucian, there's a school one for prodigies. It's where those with Sigils learn to master their powers. Would you want to enroll?"
Lucian's heart thundered. His voice was barely a whisper. "Yes… I want to learn."